High on a Hill
by queen of the imps
Summary: PotO AU: PotO meets Secret Garden: Misselthwaite Manor has always been an odd place, where ghosts wander the halls, a disfigured man controls all, where you can hear crying at night that cannot be explained, and a 10 yearold girl must go to live.


Disclaimer: I do not own 'The Phantom of the Opera' (the book or the musical) or 'The Secret Garden' (the book or the musical).

Chapter 1: Mary

"When Mary Lennox was sent to Misselthwaite Manor to live with her uncle, everybody said she was the most disagreeable-looking child ever seen. It was true, too. She had a thin little face and a thin little body, thin light hair and a sour expression. Her hair was yellow, and her face was yellow because she had been born in India and had always been ill in one way or another. Her father held a position under the British government and had always been busy or ill himself, and her mother was a great beauty who cared only to go to parties and amuse herself with gay people. She had not wanted a little girl at all, and when Mary was born she handed her over to the care of an Ayah, who was made to understand that if she wished to please the Mem Sahib she must keep the child out of sight as much as possible."

The Secret Garden, by Frances Hodgson Burnett

Mary lay in her bed, fighting to keep her eyes awake.

_I will not fall asleep._

_I will not fall asleep._

She was tired, yes, but she was stubborn. Ayah had not tucked her in. Ayah had not even tended to her once that day. And Ayah would have wanted her to get to sleep.

So, naturally, she needed to get back at Ayah.

She had thrown tantrums, of course, when she had noticed Ayah's absence. She had screamed the house down until all of the servants had noticed. Mary was smart. They always did whatever she wanted. It was because her mother hated the screaming and hated the tantrums, and, to be honest, hated Mary herself. But Mary didn't care. She would have happily swapped her mother's care for getting whatever she wanted.

But today was different.

The servants would not fetch Ayah.

When Mary had demanded to know why, the servants had all exchanged odd glances with each other. "Ayah...is sick," explained one of them.

Sick, sick, sick. All of the servants were getting sick! Mary had the deep suspicion that they were all making it up to avoid her. And now Ayah was in on it. Fine! She would get back at Ayah by not sleeping, so she would be _really_ cranky in the morning.

Now, if only she wasn't so tired...

If only Ayah was here. If she was, she would sing her that lullaby that she sang every night...

"_Mistress Mary, quite contrary, how does your garden grow?"_

Mary's eyelids drooped a little, but she fought against slumber. Only a few minutes later, though, she was asleep, and she began to dream.

"_With silver bells and cockle shells_

_And pretty maids all in a row."_

Mary's dream started out simply enough. She saw a pretty woman singing quietly to her. The woman looked just like her mother (or what she saw of her mother), except that she had a wider smile and kinder eyes. The song she sang had a soft, flowing melody, but Mary could not make out the words.

Then the dream became rather odd.

More people joined the singing woman. First was Mary's mother, her hair tied up and her face weary. Second was Mary's father, trying to put on a brave face. Third was Ayah, who simply looked calm.

Throughout all this, the singing woman smiled.

Lastly, a fakir joined them, holding a red cloth. As soon as they all saw him, the others formed a circle and linked hands. The Fakir circled them slowly, holding out the red cloth.

He eventually stopped in front of the singing woman, and handed it to her. She nodded, and handed it to Ayah. She then collapsed as though she had fainted. Once she had, she lay very, very still.

"_Mistress Mary, quite contrary, how does your garden grow?  
'Not so well,' she said_

'_See, the lily's dead'_

_Pull it up and out you go."_

Ayah calmly looked at the cloth, and then handed it to Mary's mother. Then she, too, fell to the ground.

"_Mistress Mary, quite contrary, how does your garden grow?  
'Oh, it's dry,' she wailed_

'_See, the iris failed.'_

_Dig it up, and out you go."_

All of this happened under the fakir's watchful gaze.

Mary's mother, having been given the red cloth, looked scared and confused. She looked down at the two women at her feet, and seemed absolutely helpless. But eventually she swallowed deeply and handed the cloth to her husband, who then handed it to the fakir.

"_Mistress Mary, quite contrary, how does your garden grow?  
'Oh, it's hot' she cried_

'_See, my rose has died.'_

_Dig it up, and out you go."_

All three of them fell down at the same time. All of the bodies lying there then turned into dust and floated away on a breeze.

"_Mistress Mary, quite contrary, how does your garden grow?  
'At an early frost,_

_Now it's gone, it's lost'_

_Dig it up, and out you go."_

Mary woke up later in a cold sweat.

The next several days were quite lonely and confusing for Mary. For the most part, she did not see anyone else in the house, but, then again, it was a big house. Her father was one of the highest ranking officers in the British Royal Navy, so when he was stationed in India, the British government made sure that he and his family were taken care of.

Of course, when you're wealthy, being "taken care of" takes on a whole new meaning. They had a large house and acres of land to call their own. The house was filled with native servants. Mary's mother always wore the nicest dresses and socialized with all the other officers' wives. Mary's mother and father were always going to parties and such (when Mary's father wasn't sick).

Mary's train of thought stopped abruptly when she heard a noise, and she glances about. Nothing. It must have been a breeze, or a mouse, or some other thing.

Mary was starting to get very frustrated. Where did everyone go? First, Ayah disappeared. Then, other servants began to disappear as well. Soon, it got to the point where Mary saw no one at all, except for when some servants ran by, yelling phrases in their native tongue. The only noises Mary heard were footfalls (sometimes), and mournful wails (more often), and even those eventually stopped. Mary spent most of the last few days sleeping, and when she was awake, she made her way to the dining hall, where she would eat whatever was left over, then go back to her room.

Mary eventually decided to unleash her frustration on one of her dolls. She pretended it was Ayah, finally back from wherever she'd gone. Mary decided to think of all the nasty things she'd call Ayah for leaving her all by herself, when she knew that Mary's father would disapprove. She settled on 'pig', which many of the servants took as a mark of shame.

"Pig! Pig! Daughter of a pig! Mother of pigs! Pig!"

Mary was startled when all of a sudden she heard the noise again. As she listened more closely, the noise continued and began to sound more and more like footfalls.

Ayah!

Mary stood up, dropping her doll, eagerly awaiting her Ayah's return. But when the door to her room opened, it was not Ayah at all. It was a man in a military uniform that Mary did not recognize.

Mary was startled to see a strange man there, but he seemed even more startled to see her. His eyes opened wide and he called out the doorway, "Major! There's a girl in here!"

Another strange voice called back. "Do you mean _alive?_"

"Yes! In a place like this..." Before he could finish, another man had entered the room, and he, too, stared at Mary.

Mary, by this point, was quite cross. These two men (she figured the second one was the major) were here staring at her as though she were a caged monkey! And how dare they call her "girl" and her father's house "a place like this"!

"My _name_ is Mary Lennox. Why has no one come for me? Where's my Ayah?"

The major seemed startled by her question, but quickly recovered. "Well...I'm afraid there's no one _left_, miss."

Mary wrinkled her nose. "What do you mean, no one's left? Where are my mother and father?"

The major exchanged a glance with the younger officer. There was a small space of silence before the younger officer murmured something.

"I'm sorry, miss."

Several weeks later, at the Misselthwaite Manor in England...

Dr. Craven glanced over the piece of paper with a slight frown on his face. It was a letter that had been addressed to his brother, but he wouldn't look at any of the mail unless it was a matter of life or death.

Which, apparently, it was.

Dr. Craven folded the letter and internally debated how to break the news to his brother. He already knew that he wouldn't be pleased, but eventually he wouldn't care. He was predictable when it came to his moods, but Dr. Craven preferred to avoid one of his spells of depression. He'd been having them more and more frequently, and they were becoming worse and worse. It all came down to how he broke the news...

Dr. Craven knocked quietly on the study door, waiting patiently until a rich baritone voice answered him. He slowly opened the door and stepped lightly into the room.

"Erik...?"

Upon entering the room, he immediately saw the figure of his brother, reclining in his chair as a small fire crackled in the hearth. At first glance, though, you wouldn't notice that it was a human sitting there, since the man was covered almost head to toe in black. Black suit, black hat, black cloak, and a black mask covering everything on his face except his eyes and his grimacing mouth.

Dr. Craven sighed inwardly. He must have visited the cemetery again.

The black form turned his head slowly upon seeing his brother, although he did not speak. Dr. Craven swallowed and addressed Erik cautiously.

"A letter came for you. It's about your sister-in-law."

Erik turned his head away and went back to staring at the fire. He had never really gotten along with his wife's family.

"Apparently, the cholera broke out in the village where they were living. Some of the servants caught it, and they weren't able to leave in time...it spread quickly, and she and her husband died. All of the servants either died or fled."

"Sorelli is dead?" Erik spoke with a harsh tone, remembering the last time he was unfortunate enough to encounter his sister-in-law.

"Yes...but the problem is, she left behind a child. You see, they've found an old will...and they named you as Mary's guardian."

There was a long pause before Erik spoke with a much softer tone. "Christine's niece?"

Dr. Craven inwardly grew upset. Dammit, he _knew_ this would happen! He _knew_ if he mentioned Sorelli's daughter, Erik would immediately link her to Christine. He also knew that Erik was miserable enough as it was without outside help. If it gets any worse, they'd be finding him sitting all alone in the ballroom again at three in the morning. And it kept happening over and over again...

"Yes, and they're asking if they can send the girl here. Right now she's staying with a local minister's family until we respond."

Erik continued to stare stonily into the fire and answered, as though he were contemplating: "This is no house for a child."

Dr. Craven, relieved that he was no longer thinking of Christine, heartily concurred. "I couldn't agree more! Well, we shall just have to find an appropriate school, and..."

"No."

Dr. Craven blinked. "What?"

"The girl is Christine's niece. She will come here."

"...alright, I suppose."

"Have Mrs. Medlock order the girl some clothes. I won't have her dressed in black, wandering the house like a lost soul. That would make the house even sadder than it is."

"Alright...I'll write back to them, then." He paused. "Good night, Erik."

"Good night, Raoul."

"Can it be a dream?  
Surely it must seem like a frightful dream

How can this be true?

Won't her mother come,

Come wake her up to play?  
Won't her father say

'Here's a rose for you'?

There's a girl who no one sees

There's a girl who's left alone

There's a heart that beats in silence

For the life she's never known

For the life she's never known"

-the musical "The Secret Garden": "There's a Girl"


End file.
